Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Sketch of Nowhere, America

Sorry for all these serious posts I've been making lately, I'm just in a serious state of mind lately LOL. The funny will be back soon I'm sure... I just felt like writing once again about Cache, Oklahoma... I find something inspiring about its uninspiring-ness.

--

Here, nowhere and nothing meet. There's a single road that runs through the town, a feed store to the left, trailer houses to the right. A closed down burger shack with boarded up windows sits loftily on a patch of asphalt. Tires rolling on gravel occasionally mingles with the familiar sounds of the doldrums - birds chirping, cicadas hissing, screen doors making their wiry noises, the wind rustling in the trees.

There's a school with a small gym that appears to be made of something akin to aluminum or tin, like a half buried can in the ground. The town square whispers and echoes lackadaisically of what may have been the town's heyday, but now is only a broken down restaurant, a barren cracked sidewalk, an old wooden sign waving ever so slightly with the wind.

A neighborhood street riddled with potholes and chalk drawings, an old man on his front porch rocking back and forth on his chair, staring out. A gas station with two workers in aprons standing out front, smoking. There's a numbing apathy that engulfs the town like a cloudy mist that never dissipates.

It's hard to imagine that any other place exists outside of here, the dust usually hazes out the view, making it hard to look into the distant horizon that may or may not lead to a place that's somewhere else.

In reality, to most of the town's people, there is nothing beyond this place. There is no big city with lights and crowds and skyscrapers. There is no hustle and bustle of any metropolis or any abstraction of ever becoming a part of it. There is no world outside of this all-encompassing purgatory. There exists nothing foreign because here there is only the familiar- each person trapped in a role in a play in a setting that goes on and on and on.

In fact, rarely does a dream roll in with the tumbleweeds in this town that is not put down by the uncaring reality that tears every hope apart with its idleness. There is only here, a town called nowhere, where nothing happens and no one truly lives.

I really appreciate your way of writing and I'm uplifted and thinking of what you wrote when I leave here. When I was young we lived on a ranch out in the boon docks, that's what we called it. There were no stores around, no cars, nothing. How we wish we had that now. You should visit Felipe's blog over at:

Felipe over at tzuru4.blogspot.com

I'm reminded of his type of writing when I read you. He's a great writer and lives in Mexico with his wife. You'd love his writing. Thanks again for sharing your great intake on how you see things. Take care.

Boy, your writing sure did describe with brilliant clarity a little town with a whole lot of character. I'll bet if you look around the the back alleys and back doors and windows of those now vacant buildings, you'll find the stories which are just waiting for someone like you to bring to life! Like the dreams of the restaurant owner who had to close up shop, or the gas station workers just waiting for their dream girl to saunter up in the the little town that could. I could really see the loneliness of your little town.

Amigos of Juan Pablo! My followers :) Join the party cabrone!

All about this Mixed Mexican

My name is Juan Pablo / John Paul / JP, I have insane swag. I go off on random tangents. I'm half-Mexican, and all-crazy. I just want to entertain others and put my thoughts out there! I THRIVE on COMMENTS! :D Even if you don't have a blog, I accept anonymous comments! I write because I can't stop.